


We Invited Tony Stark to our (Fake) Wedding and All We Got Was this Lousy T-Shirt (...and this Honeymoon)

by bethanythemartian



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Multi, fake married, gets to real married very quick, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:23:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethanythemartian/pseuds/bethanythemartian
Summary: Clint Barton and James Barnes, roommates and friends and lovers, are broke, and they want a new coffee table (among other things). They get an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea, birthed from a random post on the internet, to hold a fake wedding and invite only Billionaires to see if they could refurnish their apartment.The plan backfires. Of course it does, Clint Barton was involved in it.





	1. Oops?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scriptrixlatinae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scriptrixlatinae/gifts).



> Based on this tumblr post https://catscraftsandcommentary.tumblr.com/post/184451780840/1989nihil-awful-brew-xxfangirlanonymousxx

Steve was supposed to meet Bucky and Clint for lunch, but when he walked into the apartment, they had both been staring morosely at the floor, not looking at each other. It took some time to get the story out of them, and by the time he did, he was worried he was going to develop a nosebleed. He hadn't been susceptible since puberty, but the occasion seemed to call for it. 

"Okay," Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't- let me try to get this straight. You've got a wedding registry set up on a fancy website, and you sent a bunch of emails to a bunch of billionaires-"

"Their assistants, really," Bucky said, slumped on the couch.

"Well, yes. With links to the wedding registry and a date, a digital invitation."

"We sent paper invites to a couple," Clint said.

"We did?" Bucky asked, looking confused. 

"Well, some of them I thought might be harder sells, so I sent out actual paper invites to a few."

"You paid for wedding invitations."

"They were free samples," Clint said, shrugging.

"Because... you want free stuff," Steve said, hoping this would start to make sense at some point.

"That... is accurate," Bucky said.

"And we thought it would be funny," Clint said.

"That too." Bucky nodded in solemn agreement.

"But mostly because we want free stuff," Clint said, opening the fridge in order to dodge the matched set of glares he got from Steve and Bucky. "I read about it on the internet." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."

Clint shrugged.

"And the problem is that some of these billionaires want to come?"

"One," Bucky said. "One billionaire wants to come to our wedding. He RSVP'd by phone, personally." Bucky, while pretending to be fairly calm, now that he was speaking, was also clutching his phone so tightly that Clint was starting to worry for it's structural integrity. The prosthetic arm was not supposed to be much stronger than a human's grip, but.  "Like, five minutes before you came in the door."

"Which is why you're both freaking out by trying not to freak out."

"Yes," Bucky said.

Clint got enough sandwich fixings for everybody, which basically cleaned out the fridge. They invited Steve for lunch, he was going to get some lunch. "We need to hit the grocery store."

"We- Clint, you've got-" Bucky dropped the phone and buried his head in his hands. "I accepted the RSVP from a billionaire because I didn't know what else to do. And you're worried about. Food?"

Clint shrugged. "Wedding's not for months, and food is now."

"Give me the phone," Steve said.

"No." Bucky snatched it off the couch and crammed it in his pocket.

"I'll call him, tell him-"

"No, you can't," Bucky said. "You're incapable of lying."

"That's not true and you know it," Steve said, lifting an eyebrow.

"You turn red, Steve," Bucky said.

"He can't see that on the phone," Steve replied. "I'm great on the phone. I'll say you were caught off guard, but the wedding party is full because you ran out of budget, or something. Who was it? Elon Musk? He might-"

"Tony Stark," Clint said. "Sandwich?"

Steve took the food automatically. "Tony Stark is coming to your wedding?"

"Our fake wedding, that we're not having, because we're not getting married!" Bucky said, with a little too much vehemence.

"Why not?"

"Something about his Ma and Catholicism," Clint said, shrugging.

"Your Ma loves Clint," Steve said, baffled.

Bucky buried his face in his hands and mumbled something indecipherable. 

"And you're not Catholic. I'm a _lapsed_ Catholic, but you're not- Bucky, you're _Jewish_."

Bucky didn't respond.

Clint chewed.

"Give me the phone, I'll take care of it." 

"No. Steve, you just make things worse," Bucky said. "Please-"

"Give me the phone." That was Steve's Captain voice.

Bucky sighed and threw the phone at Steve, hoping it would hit Steve in the face. He hated when Steve used the Captain voice. 

Steve caught it neatly in one hand, and dialed back the most recent unrecognized phone number.

"Stark, my time is money," was the answer.

"Mr. Stark!" Steve said, making his voice genial and excited. "I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm calling on behalf of the James Barnes and Clint Barton wedding. We were delighted to find out you were interested in attending but unfortunately, my friends over-invited and we can't afford to have everyone come that we would like to. We're going to have to pare back to close friends and family, you understand."

"Oh, yeah, getting married in New York is expensive."

Steve felt a second of relief. "So-"

"How much do you need?"

"What?"

"To cover extra guests?"

"Oh, Mister Stark, we couldn't possibly-"

"50 grand would cover it, right? Do you have a venue already? The invitation was kind of vague on that. If you have a venue in mind, I'll get my PA to hook you up. She can get it for you cheap."

"Well..."

"James Buchanan Barnes is the first successful test of the prosthetic limbs, I'm not missing him getting hitched. Hang on." Presumably Stark was holding his phone away from his face to yell, but Steve didn't see that it made much of a difference. "Pepper? Pepper! Come here, I need you to help broke army vets make a gay wedding happen! Spare no expense!"

Steve listened, helplessly, his attempts to interject and override them worthless as they continued to make plans with barely any input. 

He hung up the phone as both Clint and Bucky stared at him, both clearly aware that the phone call had gone awry. "So, we're having a wedding planner lunch with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts tomorrow."

Bucky threw a couch cushion at him, swearing violently, and Clint managed to get the sandwiches out of the way as Steve caught the cushion and threw it back.

"How did that go so wrong?" Clint asked.

"I don't know! He just kept talking! He knows Bucky because of the prosthesis program."

"He knows- I thought that was a company thing," Bucky said.

"He personally designed your arm, you're the prototype model, and the 'ambassador for the brand'," Steve said, using finger quotes because it sounded like Pepper had been. "To be fair, Pepper seems really enthusiastic about throwing a gay wedding for broke army vets." 

"How did they know I'm a vet?" Clint asked.

"Tony probably looked you up," Steve said. "You are listed as Bucky's next of kin on a lot of forms, where I'm not."

"I am?" Clint asked.

Bucky nodded miserably. "Who's on yours?"

"You and Phil, mostly."

"What is this, commitment phobia?" Steve asked. "You've been together for years."

"I promised Ma I'd marry a nice Irish Catholic gal," Bucky mumbled.

Steve burst out laughing, and both of them just stared at him.

"What?" Bucky asked.

Steve, still laughing, replied "Buck, pal, she was trying to convince you to marry  _me_ , and you missed the memo."

"She what?" Clint asked.

Steve was laughing too hard to answer for a minute. His answer came after he kind of got himself under control. "She thought we were secretly seeing each other for _years_ ," Steve said. "She was trying to tell him it was okay if she liked someone who wasn't Jewish or a woman, and got heavy with hints, and he apparently took it wrong. She eventually talked to me about it, and we sorted it out. He never could talk to his ma about this kind of stuff."

"I thought she wanted ten thousand grandkids," Bucky said. "Can't do that with a guy."

"A: your sisters are working on it B: if you're married, there's no reason you can't adopt. That's harder to do unmarried, but. C: You don't gotta have kids if you don't wanna. D: Clint?"

"I really don't care either way, might be better for taxes." He tipped his head to the side. "We should get a dog, first. Kids are harder, but if we can manage keeping a dog alive I don't object to kids."

"There's the romantic gesture I was hoping for," Steve said, his voice dry.

"I'm taking my hearing aids out," Clint said, but jokingly. He took a sandwich over to Bucky and sat next to him. "I love you, eat a sandwich and let's get hitched."

Steve did a full, double-handed facepalm that neither of them saw but both of them heard. "You're helpless, both of you. I'm calling Sam."

"No!" they both shouted. 

"Yep, there's nothing you can do to stop me. This is ridiculous-"

"You can't tell Sam, he'll tell Nat, and Nat will-" Clint waved wildly, unable to articulate what Nat would do. 

"Make fun of you for the rest of your life, which you richly deserve, because the only other way you two idiots will marry each other is if you trip over a pastor and have the paperwork _in hand_. Being bullrushed into it by an enthusiastic billionaire because of a prank gone awry was never an option before, but it's definitely fitting."

Clint looked up at Bucky, who was staring at his sandwich, looking mulish. "Do you really not want to get married?" he asked, his voice soft. "If you don't, that's okay. We don't have to. Stark seems like he has a sense of humor, I'll explain it to him. We don't have to get married to stay together. But I think... I think we could." 

Bucky looked up at him. "You said, after Bobby, you weren't gonna get married again."

"I'd just gotten divorced, Buck, lotsa people say that kind of thing. I meant it, at the time. But people can change their minds, and Bobby and I worked things out, eventually." Clint smiled. "Besides, how many chances do you think we'll get to have an enthusiastic and eccentric billionaire fund our gay wedding?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Bucky said, picking up the sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. "Alright, let's do this."

"Good." Clint jammed his hand into the couch, all the way up to the elbow, and dragged out a small jewelry box, which he shoved at Bucky. "Here, this is for you."

Bucky opened the box, and snapped it shut. "This is an engagement ring."

"In the couch?" Steve squeaked, then slapped his hands over his mouth.

"Yep."

"For my left hand?" Bucky waved his prosthetic arm, a gleaming metal thing.

"Of course it's for your left hand. That's where you  _wear_ wedding rings."

"You got me a ring for my prosthetic arm on the chance I might- how did you get one you think would fit?"

"I consulted with Stark Industries on how-"

"This is your fault!" Bucky crowed. "You did this to me!" 

"I'll take it back!" Clint yelled, reaching for the box.

"Never! You gave it to me!" Bucky put the ring on, dodging Clint's half-hearted attempts to snatch the ring back. "You are to blame for this whole marriage!" He caught Clint around the shoulders, and grinned. "All your fault."

Clint grinned back. "Well, it's gotta be someone's."

"It's kind of Steve's fault, too," Bucky pointed out.

"Leave me outta this," Steve said, texting furiously.

"I'll take the blame," Clint said.

They were kissing kind of sloppily by the time the door slammed open and Natasha and Sam started pelting them with confetti.

"The sandwiches!" Clint yelled, diving to protect the forgotten food.

"This is a 'you finally got your shit together' celebration," Natasha said. "I brought Vodka and pizza."

"And me." Sam grinned at them.

Clint and Bucky both flipped them off, double-handed. 

 


	2. This is Probably a Good Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lunch date occurs, apologies are made, life is got on with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I want to think my good IRL friend who reminded me about this fic last week and that started the whole 'maybe I should update it'... thing.

Here's the thing: _Everybody_ knows Tony Stark. Everybody in America and a good portion of the rest of the world has heard that name, most people could pick his distinctive face out of a crowd. Or, at least, would recognize a photo.

Steve has some distant familial connection- his dad knew Stark's dad. But, Steve's dad died before Steve was old enough to remember his face, and Ma wouldn't talk about the senior Stark except roundabout, so all he had were distant echoes and some impressions of the man from his dad's unit. The Howling Commandos, they're called, though anybody who knows them well enough to know calls them Howlies, or (his ma) assholes (but, like, affectionately). Bucky's Dad knew them, but wasn't in the same unit- still, they were all friends, and if the Howlies hadn't spread across the globe after they'd mustered out they probably would all see each other on more or less a regular basis. They all email or call, which isn't the same...

Set aside that, the fact that he'd heard second-hand stories about Stark's dad, and Steve (and his unit, which includes Clint, Bucky, Natasha, and a bunch of other folks) also played a strong component in saving Tony Stark after he'd been kidnapped by terrorists in the middle of a weapons demo. They didn't pull him out of the cave, but they did find intel vital to locating Stark, and passed it along. 

Stark had been captured by the Ten Rings and was being forced, at gunpoint, to rebuild the weapon that he was originally in Afghanistan to demo. He was 'doing that' in the sense that he was building the biggest bomb he knew how to, with plans to blow up himself, the camp and everyone in it, the cave he'd been kept in, and probably a decent chunk of the mountain. You know, go big or go home in its most extreme format.

When Stark realized he was getting rescued he'd deactivated it and broken it apart enough that it probably wouldn't blow up, but there's probably still some poor munitions expert somewhere who wakes up from nightmares about having to tear that technological terror apart.

Steve doesn't know if Stark knows that or not. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.

Steve _does_ know a lot about the kind of deep, dark hole Tony Stark spent more than a month living in. He'd pulled people out of similar, and he knows how it changes people, and he's watched interviews since. And not only do the magazines have fewer wild parties to speculate about, but Tony Stark in interviews now has this _look_ in his eye, sometimes, and there's no reason it does except it makes Steve think about the pictures he saw of the cave they pulled Stark out of.

That's not the point, actually. The point is that most people know Tony Stark, but only in the sense that most people know Mickey Mouse. And Tony Stark, at least the one who shows up in interviews, is nearly as constructed, in some ways.

He has to be, is what Steve figures. Not because he's dishonest, no, it's just... a margin. Keeping your real life separate from work is much harder when you're one of the most recognizable faces in the world. Stark can't get a traffic ticket but people know about it, he spent a month in a hole being tortured, and he has to pretend to be a normal person. Not, like, a _normal_ normal person, but rather a charismatic tech genius. He has to be the most suave, sophisticated person because that's who he's spent his life being, and Steve has no doubts that he is a genius, he knows he's charismatic, he knows he's suave and sophisticated. He just knows that, like most people, that it's probably only part of the time, and he uses a lot of it on like interviews and charity galas and the like.

Besides, he's grown up having Stark's dad described to him as not just one asshole but an entire bag of assholes, bursting at the seams, which kind of takes the shine off any celebrity.

Given that everybody and nobody knows Tony Stark, and his only introduction to the man in any kind of personal context was a hectic and uncontrolled phone call where enthusiasm dragged the purpose of the call immediately away from Steve, he had no idea what to expect when they showed up at Stark Tower. He'd worn a sport coat and had a tie in his pocket- he didn't really enjoy ties, but if they were eating at one of the fancy restaurants in the Tower, they'd all called for coats and ties, so he had one.

Bucky and Clint had worn combat boots, jeans, and t-shirts, on the idea that they were going with Tony Stark and probably nobody would give a fuck. Which was probably well-founded, Clint's not moneyed but Natasha's (estranged) family is, and they'd been close since forever, so Clint may know enough to know and that may have rubbed off on Bucky. (Also Bucky and Tasha hang out more often, by virtue of Clint living with Bucky and Clint and Tasha being best friends, so maybe that just rubbed off on Bucky.)

In fact, they ended up in the penthouse, Tony Stark's own private residence, and they all had shared a wide-eyed moment in the elevator up upon learning that they were being invited into the intensely private man's home.

He defended his own turf with a sense of privacy that verged on paranoia (understandable, given he'd been literally betrayed by his closest family friend into enemy hands) and while he'd give interviews about any and everything, his actual home life was so off limits he would walk off set without even acknowledging questions about it. Anything about a lover, a friend, about his relationship with CEO Pepper Potts outside of work (clearly the kind of loving, bickering sibling relationship that Bucky and Steve have, just based off the phone call Steve had been at the other end of the day before), but there was speculation. But this was a Known Thing about Stark: anything that crosses the invisible line from public to private, and you get shut down.

So being invited into his dining room was overwhelming and terrifying.

Stark was there, sitting on the table, sorting through a bag of sandwiches, it looked like. He looked up and waved, and gestured to a dark-haired women sitting nearby. She stood up when they came in. "Hello, I'm Darcy Lewis," she said. "I'm his PA."

"Among other things," Stark said, mostly to himself.

"Unfortunately, Pepper can't make it today. She asked us to continue without her, it's likely that she'd be called out of any future meeting, so I think it's probably for the best." Darcy, even though she was dressed pretty casually in jeans and a t-shirt, had what Steve thought of as Professional Voice going. And, honestly, if she were wearing a suit it'd look odd next to Stark's grease-smeared jeans and a Metallica t-shirt that was threadbare and looked like it actually might be older than Metallica, somehow. 

"Sit down, grab a sandwich," Stark said, gesturing grandly.

She gave him a quelling look, which he ignored.

"I have met a manner, once, in my life," she said to him, which he waved off irritably. "You'd be Captain Rogers?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, stepping forward. "And this is Sergeant James Barnes, and Sergeant Clint Barton," pointing to each.

She shook everybody's hands, her handshake firm and her greeting gaze direct.

"Okay, everybody's friends, sit down," Stark said.

"On the table, or just at it?" Rogers asked, amused.

Stark looked up, startled, and then down, like he'd just now realized he was sitting directly on the eating surface. Taking up sizeable real estate, actually. "Okay, tell me the truth, does this make me look cool and casual, like I'm just too cool to care about chairs, or more like a crazy weirdo who doesn't understand tables?"

"I have to admit, you're kind of straddling the line," Rogers said. "Asking that question pushes you into 'crazy weirdo' territory, though, I'm afraid."

Stark snorted. "That's fair." He rolled off the table into a standing position. "Uh, listen, I don't do formal, you wanna grab the food and eat in my living room?"

"Half the time I eat at the kitchen sink," Barton said. "So 'sitting' is an upgrade."

"I'll take it," Stark said, passing food around and following Darcy into the living room. Darcy flopped on a big cushion on the floor, leaning against the couch, and everyone sorted out sandwiches and started eating.

Steve gave both Bucky and Clint what one might describe as a Significant Look.

Clint sighed, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Okay, I have a confession," Clint said. "We weren't engaged until yesterday afternoon, because I'm an idiot."

Tony looked up, puzzled. "You sent me an invitation. He did, right, I'm not hallucinating that?"

"He did," everyone said, Bucky nodding.

"We were pranking billionaires," Clint said, sighing again. "For free stuff. And because it was funny. Really fifty/fifty, on the reasoning end. You, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates- really we just looked up some of the richest people in the world and sent them wedding invites and a registry link." He shrugged, like that was a normal thing to do.

Given that Tony had been sitting on the table when they walked in and now looked like a goldfish caught out of water when it was pointed out, that was probably a reasonable way to approach the situation.

Tony managed to shake off his confused look, concentrating on working his way through this bizarre tangle. "I made that ring months ago. I personally made it, at your request." He pointed at Clint.

"I didn't know that," Clint said. "I just asked the tech guys who worked at the VA if there was a good way to get a wedding ring on the prosthetic that wouldn't muck it up, and they said they'd pass it along and give me some info, then I got some more questions, and then the ring showed up. I was not aware that you, personally, had made the wedding ring because in spite of how dumb I look, I'm not actually that level of stupid."

"Oh," Stark said. "Yeah, I guess I did suggest that there seem like there were levels between me and the prosthetic devices being made, that's on me. So you're engaged _now_ , right?"

"Oh, yeah, we worked it out," Clint said.

"I needed a kick in the pants," Bucky said, shrugging. "I'll explain it to you if you want, it's hilarious, but stupid."

"Much like we are, kind of in general," Clint said, because at this point, there's no sense in not being honest.

"So the wedding's on?" Stark pushed.

"Yes?" Clint winced at the question mark in his own voice.

"Great!"

"Uh, I don't follow," Clint said.

"Listen, you've been on his paperwork since I started tinkering with the designs for that arm, which means since he got back and has been in the hospital. As far as I can tell you've been living together for years. You asked me for a ring, which I made personally, I spent weeks checking to see that it would lock into the joint properly. I'm fucking invested."

"That's fair," Clint said, shrugging.

"Speaking of which, you, sir, are wearing a prototype and I want to get a close up now that I've got you here. Yes, Darcy, after we do wedding discussion," he added, when Darcy opened her mouth to say something. 

"As long as you're okay with it," Bucky said.

"Oh, yeah, that's hilarious and, reading between the lines, helped you both get your ass in gear. Which I'm find with having facilitated."

"Pretty much," Steve said, packing away his 'I'm sorry my friends are idiots, thank you for your time, we'll leave you to the rest of your day' speech.

"Net gain, then. Listen, I'm not going to pretend I don't know that you guys are part of why I'm alive. Let's just clear the air about that. I know, a big team all working together, I get that, and part of why I wanted to do the prototype program for the vets is that particular reason, that y'all don't get enough to do what you do, and you should at least get patched up and functional and all that, and it's just a little bit of something I can do to help. But you _specifically_ are part of the _specific_ reason I got dragged out of a shithole cave before I blew it the fuck up with me _in_ it, and while at the time I probably resented it more than anything else in the fucking world, I like being alive now, and paying for a wedding for a couple of gay broke veterans isn't gonna put a dent in my yearly budget, not even a little, so let's just get that out of the way. I want to help, I can help, I like being alive and you contributed substantially to that, and now that we've covered that we don't have to go over it again, right? Right. You want a wedding, I have a checkbook so big it's probably hard to fathom from your point of view, money doesn't solve all the problems but it'll solve this particular one and it lets a little more light and love into the world and I think that's a net gain for everybody. Right? Right. So, when do you wanna get hitched, and where?"

Steve was trying not to choke or laugh or something, but Clint was ready. "We don't have a set location," he said, munching on his sandwich. He swallowed. "I was thinking first weekend in September? We started dating in September, we can't agree on the day so probably the first weekend is best, it's before either of the date we both think we remember."

"You started dating in August, you just weren't acknowledging it," Steve added, which is always his contribution to this particular conversation.

Both Bucky and Clint shrugged. "I don't deny it, but that's not really the point," Bucky said. "I'm fine with the first weekend in September. We'd like some place big, but we're not fancy people and a lot of the big locations are on the fancy side."

"Yeah, maybe you'll have to deal with the fancy a bit," Stark said. "I've been-" at an explosive sigh from Darcy, he stops. "Darcy's been looking into it, and a lot of the bigger locations are on the fancy side, but you can make it work, I'm sure." He looked thoughtful, and then an expression Steve would have to describe as 'unholy glee' came over his face. "Hey, we could do it in the mansion."

"No, Tony," Darcy said, an exasperated and already-defeated tone.

"That's not your job," he said. "You're not here to 'no, Tony' me, that's Pepper's job and she's the only one allowed to 'no, Tony' me about the Mansion. It's great, there's that big ballroom, it's really outdated, very 80s because that's when my parents redid it. Mirrors and gold and crap, it's ugly as hell."

"Hmmm, I can work with ugly," Barnes said, nodding.

"Pull up some pics, Darce," Tony said.

"After lunch." She gave him a pointed look, and his only partially nibbled sandwich.

"Is it interestingly ugly?" Clint asked.

Tony nods. "It's very retro in a very bad way. It's hysterical."

"I'm sold," Clint said, shrugging.

"Colors?" Darcy asked, she was working through her sandwich but she had her phone out.

"Blue and purple," Steve said, because both Bucky and Clint had a mouthful of sandwich and were liable to choke trying to swallow quickly enough to answer. They hadn't discussed it, before hand, but those were their colors. Both men nodded in agreement.

"How many guests?" Darcy asked.

"Ballpark, 150," Steve said.

"When you have it ready, email me the lists, and the list of people who'll need formal wear. Wedding party, gowns and tuxes," Darcy said. "We have a tailor in mind. They're up and comers and could use the income," she said.

"Not his usual tailor?"

"They are now, but they're still getting used to the idea," Tony said. "My old tailor worked for my dad. Nice guy, honestly, but he sold his business when he got too old to take measurements anymore and the new people, I don't like." There was a flat tone to his voice that said that was all he was saying about _that_. "I've been shopping around for a few years, these kids are good. They know their stuff, they're twins. I guess their folks did tailoring back where they came from. They're from Sokovia."

That was a hell of a thing to drop into the conversation. Practically speaking, Sokovia didn't exist anymore. It had been divided into so much rubbled dirt that other countries were pretending not to squabble over, while absolutely squabbling over, by accusing each other of turning it into rubbled dirt, even though they all had contributed. All this while the dead, dying, walking wounded, and living victims of people who'd just seen their country collapse into nothing tried to figure out what to do next. Insult to injury, the countries involved had managed to get hold of the last remaining stash of Stark weapons, from before he'd closed down the weapons side of business, and modify them to be extra nasty. Hammer Inc? Something Hammer was involved in that, and whoever was in charge of Hammer was dodging extradition treaties in some country that apparently didn't mind war criminals. Brazil, rumors had it.

"They're very sweet," Darcy said, "And they're like excited puppies if you give them a project. Tony just doesn't need enough suits to keep them going, a wedding party would be a major bonus for them," Darcy said.

And, put like that, it was hard to object. That was the point, though, that Steve realized they were being Managed. As Darcy, throughout the meal, spouted more ideas, most of which he didn't really comment on, he had another thought, growing from underneath, the 'We're Being Managed' thought, which was this: _Tony Stark knew it was a fake invite. He looked at it, and the man has seen enough invites to know fake from real. He mentioned, in the phone call, that the wedding date was vague. He pushed on this, hoping for an outcome like this._

Steve kept it to himself, eating. He wasn't either groom, his job was to make sure Bucky showed up, sober and in a tux, and that was it.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Darcy, get the information from Cap, give him your deets, so you guys can figure out when to do fittings and tastings and all that, Barnes, you and me, lab."

"Can I come?" Clint asked.

"Of course."

"Yes!" Clint fist pumped.

The circus rattled towards the elevator, and Darcy rolled her eyes as they got into it.

"I'm gonna ask you. You think this is okay?"

She nodded. "He's been working solid for, like, a week. If it weren't for me, he'd probably be pulling all-nighters, but I chase him out of the lab before it gets too late. He's been pretty much 'get up, work, sleep, maybe eat food' so this is the first time he's done something not work related. It's as much a break as anything else."

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "He gets pretty wound up about it, sometimes. I think he's just relieved to have a couple hours where he doesn't feel like he has to push himself. I guess when he was younger he'd just push until he's done and sleep for six days, but he's getting to the point where he really can't do that without crashing in the middle of the project. Which is why he even _lets_ me chase him out of the lab at night." She handed him a card and her phone. "Here's my info, put yours in."

"How long have you been working for him?"

"Since he made Pepper CEO. She said he needed a new PA, they were in a fight about it, because since he didn't need to sign so much paperwork- and that was half her job, chasing him down to get him to sign something- he didn't think he needed someone, but he's still the face of the company and needs someone to run his schedule and shit."

He nodded.

"Well, he ran into me and decided I'd do."

"It's a longer story than that," Steve guessed.

"Yeah, he can tell it, but I won't." She shrugged. "It's personal for him, and I like you and he likes you, but I don't know how much sharing he wants to do, so that's his call and not mine."

Steve nodded. "That's fair," he said, and put his information into the phone. "You like working for him?"

"Oh yeah, I should have gotten my degree in herding scientists, but I'm good at it and it pays ludicrously well- seriously, I get paid so much- and I get to buy fancy dresses for when I'm going to functions. By the way, try to get me an invite, if possible. Tony will try to bring me whether or not you do, so it's easier if you just invite me."

Steve smiled. "Aren't you going to be sending out the invites?" he asked.

"Well, I mean... I see your point."

"I'll let Clint and Bucky know, but I cannot imagine they would have an issue with it."

She nodded. "So, do you want to go join them down in every tech nerd's wet dream, or do you want to look at the venue with me and come up with a theme that the grooms won't hate but will make the 80s thing, like, work?"

"As cool as the lab probably is," Steve said, "I'm honestly not much of a tech guy."

"Oh, good, I don't know them well enough to make decisions," she said, sighing.

 

 

They spent a couple of hours going through pictures and then looking up formal wear trends, talking about what they thought would work with the 'let's pretend there's a budget' and grooms' tastes (largely simple) before taking a break to go, as Darcy put it, 'pry Tony out of the lab and put more calories in him'. 


	3. Bonding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are difficult.

Pietro and Wanda were the twins who made suits, and they had an interesting little boutique. It was lower rent than Steve would have guessed, but they had some nice stuff. Not all of it formal, apparently Wanda was really working to break into higher fashion stuff, and she was working with- as she put it- unusual models.

"It is, of course, ridiculous that high fashion ignores most of the population," she said. "Even Darcy, who is beautiful, is too large to be a model."

"And too short," Darcy said, looking amused. 

"Yes, that too, which is also ridiculous. So I use larger models, and shorter models, and models who are not male or female, and models who have prosthetic limbs, and of course models who are not white. I use models that look the way the world looks." She did this little head toss at the end. "It is ridiculous to do otherwise. We design clothes to be worn by people, we should include more people in the process."

So there were some very interesting mannequins wearing very interesting clothing, none of it what you would expect, while Pietro and Wanda sketched and frowned. "This is not a tuxedo event, correct?" Pietro asked.

"Yeah. I'm not even a big fan of suits."

"Oh, I believe we can convert you," Pietro said, flashing Clint a grin. "These will be comfortable and beautiful. Blue and purple, yes? Here, we have some swatches." He handed Clint a book that nearly dropped out of his hands, it was so heavy with fabric. "I think a nice dark gray suit, one in purple shirt with blue tie and the other switched."

"Clint in the purple shirt, Bucky in the blue," Steve said, since they were both kind of looking at each other and shrugging. Clint was trying not to let the fact that he was breathing a little too hard, a little too fast show.

"It's not as garish as it sounds, Clint really likes that soft purple, right? it's got kind of a blue tone to it anyway, and it's kind of a heather shade? For blue a similar saturation level, I think, it'll make it look more cohesive. Like something in the cornflower range, but something with a bit of... pewter to it?"

"Yes, here," Pietro said, pulling the book out of Clint's hands and flipping to some pages, pointing for everyone but looking at Clint for direction. "I think I know what you mean, in this range, right?"

Clint looked at Bucky, despairing.

"We don't have to be there for this?" Bucky said it more like a question than a statement, and cleared his throat. "We don't have to be here for this. Steve is better at visual aesthetic than us. We have to show up for fittings, but I trust Steve not to make us look like assholes."

"Too late, you already look like an asshole," Steve said, without even looking up from the swatch book.

"Do you mind if we leave this up to you?"

Steve turned and gave them both a measuring look. He must have found what he was looking for, because his face relaxed. "Not at all," he said. "Go buy some hot dogs or something."

Bucky took Clint by the hand and pulled him out of the shop.

"It's gonna look great, you know Steve won't let us down," Bucky said, a few blocks out.

"I know," Clint said, rubbing his face. "I'm kind of. It's starting to get real."

"I thought that was the whole point." Bucky didn't sound judgmental, just matter-of-fact. 

"Yeah I know, but..."

Bucky started rubbing the back of his neck, just idly. "Listen, we don't have to do the whole fancy thing. We can just go to the office and get hitched. Do you wanna do that?"

"But what about-"

"That's just a party celebrating us. It ain't _us_. I bet Stark would call it off if we need to, but getting hitched is just some paperwork."

"Steve would murder us in our sleep."

"Only if we didn't drag him along. We don't gotta cancel the big thing, but if we get hitched now, it'll take a lot of the pressure off. A lot of couples do it."

"They don't."

"Some do, more than you think."

Clint took a deep breath. "I think I'll be okay."

"Listen, let's talk to everybody, if you think it'll take the pressure off not a single person will give a shit. The ceremony is more for everyone else. We're allowed to do something for us."

"We'd break your Ma's heart."

Bucky snorted. "Ma is just happy we're getting hitched, I don't think the particulars matter." She was happy, after he'd called her she'd brought over cookies and Bucky's youngest niece (she was watching the baby for Becca) and told him a long speech that can be summed up as "it's about time!" 

Clint sighed.

"Whatever makes it easier."

"What about you?"

"I'm looking forward to the cake," Bucky said. "I think the party will be a lot of fun. Stark's talking an open bar, and Ma's hilarious when she gets enough whiskey in her. But it doesn't really matter to me if we legally get married that moment or, like, right now. I didn't think this would happen, I'm happy it is, and the details don't matter, in the long run."

"Okay." Clint leaned on him a minute. "I think I just needed a break."

"We're gonna end up throwing cake at each other in Stark's ugly ballroom, and we'll be married, nothing else really matters."

Clint laughed.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. This is what we're doing. The details are fun, that's all. If it's not fun, we stop dealing with it." Bucky stopped at a hot dog cart, and ordered them both hot dogs. "Should we take food back?"

"I don't wanna go back," Clint said. "Steve can handle the details."

"We owe Steve a hot dog for dealing with the details."

"I'll grill him a steak."

Bucky nodded, thinking personally that Steve was probably having a blast and would happily grill them steaks for letting him take the lead. He pulled his phone out, and had a text from Steve: 'Everything okay?'

'I think relationship hangover from Bobby. You got this?'

'I'm having fun, I've got this. You'll look great. Pietro already got your measurements, so just go do something fun.'

'Thanks.'

"Steve's got it covered," Bucky said. "Let's go do something."

"What?" 

"Whatever you want?"

"Can we go home and watch tv?"

"Sure," Bucky said. "Or we could go to Coney Island. Or the museum."

"I just want to go home and watch Great British Bake Off."

"Okay. Let's hit the store first, you always bake after we watch a few episodes and we're low on flour."

"Oooh, good idea," Clint said.

 

Steve got to their house later, and Bucky was on the couch, watching that British baking show. Clint was stretched out, with his head in Bucky's lap, snoring. There was a batch of cookies cooling on newspapers, and Bucky looked up. "How did it go?"

"It went fine. I sent you some sketches."

Bucky glanced over to the counter, where his phone was.

"Ah," Steve said. "You'll look great, don't worry," he said, snatching up the phone and tossing it to Bucky, who caught it one handed. "I talked to Tony and he said that we're trying to make it as easy as we can, so you only have to make the fun decisions. So we'll do the cake testing and try out some food vendors next week, and then me and Darcy and Tony will handle the details, if that's what you want."

"Yeah, I think so. You know Clint, he tries to be easy going but gets caught in his own brain sometimes."

"You talkin about me?" Clint asked.

"Yep. Steve's home."

"Oh, good," Clint said, and seemed to go back to sleep. 

Bucky laughed, and ruffled his hair. "Move, I need to pee."

"You and your needs," Clint grumbled, but he sat up and blinked at Steve. "Hey Steve."

"You guys are gonna look great. Cake testing and food vendors next week. Those are the only decisions you get to make."

"That's probably for the best," Clint said, not even objecting a little. "Have a cookie, I'm grilling steaks for dinner."

Steve grinned at him. "Check your phone, I sent you sketches."

"Whatever, I'm not worried," Clint said, getting up.

"Lies," Steve said.

"Not if it's you," Clint said, shrugging. "You won't let us look like assholes on our big day."

"I don't think I can perform that kind of miracle, but you'll at least look like well-dressed, suave assholes."

"I'll take it," Clint said, opening the fridge and pulling the steaks out to come up to room temperature. "Dinner's in like a couple of hours. Eat as many cookies as will fit, I made too many."

"You always make too many," Steve said, but he picked up a cookie. "You okay?"

Clint nodded. "I'm okay."

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's on the short side!


End file.
